


All about the fluff (eng)

by Laet_lyre



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, One Shot Collection, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-16 04:43:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15429291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laet_lyre/pseuds/Laet_lyre
Summary: One shot collection of assorted pairings being ador(k)able.-Height difference (TsukkiYama)-Little lion man (LevYaku)-Concepts (IwaOi)-Person of interest (KuroKen)





	1. Height difference (TsukkiYama)

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [All about the fluff (esp)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15429255) by [Laet_lyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laet_lyre/pseuds/Laet_lyre). 



> There was a time when Kei feared Yamaguchi would grow taller than him. And, as a good brother, Akiteru has no problem shoving it in his face.

Tsukishima Kei was surrounded by sentimentals, he was positive about that. What he didn't know was that they could go that far.

"What's that?" he asked looking askance at one of the corners of his brother's bedroom.

"This?" Akiteru said, taking the wood strip with the same care as if it were a puppy. "It's part of the old frame of the kitchen's door. I asked mom to keep it when we changed it a couple of years ago" he held the plank closer to his brother, who backed away as if it burned.

"I know what it is" Kei hissed. "Why on Earth would you keep something like that?"

Akiteru blinked slowly, the smile frozen on his lips, as if he hadn't understood the question. Kei fought the urge to shake him, basically because it wouldn't have worked. He simply glared at the marks that covered the table in irregular intervals.

There were just pairs of measurements in the beginning, but a third one appeared mid-height. 'Tadashi, 10' could be read next to the mark, between others saying 'Kei, 7' and 'Akiteru, 8'.

"Isn't it amazing?" Akiteru said, smiling in a way that his brother found unnerving. "Look, when you were ten Tadashi barely reached your shoulders, but when you turned thirteen he was almost as tall as you" he giggled, pointing to a pair of lines separated by just two centimetres.

"Yeah, well, so?" Kei grumbled, internally praying his brother wouldn't say what he  _knew_  he would say.

"Yeah, yeah, now you are too old to care about such a thing" he mockingly emphasized the word 'old', "but back then it pissed you so much you asked mom to measure you every day for months to see if you had grown" he tapped the side of the plank covered in tens of marks so close together they formed a continuous line of several centimetres.

Kei hid his face in his hands, ashamed, hating his brother's smile, which had nothing to envy the Cheshire cat's. He wished he would volatilize too…

"Don't ever tell anyone a thing about this" Kei said, trying to sound threatening, a complicated feat since he was still trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Oh, I don't know," Akiteru narrowed his eyes, "it depends on how well you behave…"

Kei snorted, indignant. And people said he was the mean one! They obviously didn't know what his brother was capable of… although, on second thought, he'd rather die than let anybody know how Akiteru could blackmail him.

"Get rid of that thing!" he warned before leaving the room fuming.

"Come on, Kei, don't you have a heart?" he heard the mournful reproach from his brother.

Kei put on his shoes and coat and left the house. Stupid Akiteru. He always found a way of breaking his schemes and making him feel like that, ashamed and ridiculous. And all with that smile, a mixture of naivety and mischief in equal parts. He huffed. The worst of that face was that it made it impossible for him to appropriately get mad at his brother. Every time Akiteru smiled, no matter how much he annoyed him, he felt a twinge of relief. He had been really harsh to him upon discovering his lies. He was deceived, something broke inside him… but losing his brother's smile had been just as painful.

"Tsukki~"

Kei flinched, startled. He turned and saw Yamaguchi running to meet him.

"Yamaguchi" he spoke when the boy caught up with him.

"I was going to your house, but I saw you from the cross" Yamaguchi's smile faltered. "Is there something wrong, Tsukki?"

"Why do you think that?" he asked in the plainest voice he could muster.

"You rarely wander around without your headphones, especially when it's cold." The blond cursed mentally. Tadashi knew him too much. At least he hoped he would blame his blush on the freezing air and let it slide. "Your face is red, Tsukki." Oh, of course. Yamaguchi would never overlook anything related to him. "Here."

The freckled boy took his scarf and, ignoring his vague reticence, tied it around his neck. Yamaguchi stood on his tiptoes to reach better, which reminded Kei about the conversation with his brother. This, along with the sudden closeness, made him blush harder.

"Better?"

Kei managed to let out a sound that could be translated as an affirmation.

"Let's move" he said.

Yamaguchi followed with a soft smile, unaffected by the sharp tone. Kei looked askance at him. The boy was currently about ten centimetres shorter than him. He had barely grown a centimetre in the last months, and still his presence was overwhelming compared to the beginning of the school year. He wasn't the shy weakling that stuck to him like glue anymore. Now he walked by his side with confidence.

Without giving it much thought, he took his wrist and pulled him closer. Before he could ask a question, he leant over, closing the distance between them to kiss him. At first Yamaguchi shuddered, surprised, since Tsukishima wasn't one for spontaneous displays of affection, but soon he noticed his lips curving into a smile and his arms wrapping around his neck. When they separated he could almost see gleams of joy in his brown eyes.

"Come on, let's go" he said in a softer voice. Tadashi nodded without letting go of his hand.

The height difference didn't really matter. Whether it was thirty or two centimetres, Yamaguchi Tadashi was like tailor-made for him.

-.-.-

"Hey, Tadashi, do you want to see something?"

"Akiteru, no!"


	2. Little lion man (LevYaku)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was difficult to explain why he was there, on the campus of the Todai, like an oversized lost pup. Any other person would have said goodbye to his senpai at graduation, he would have wished him the best, and they would have only seen each other in the alumni meetings and maybe in a game. But Lev was not just anyone.

Of course people would stop and stare. It wasn't every day that you found such an enormity of almost two meters tall standing in front of your faculty scrutinizing people's faces like a jittery dog looking for its owner. However, the guy ignored the looks and whispers that his presence caused. His mind was set on one person and he would find them. Although he wasn't even sure about the reason behind his determination. Because their relationship hadn't started all that well.

In fact, it was hard to come up with a worse first impression.

When he first entered the pavilion reserved for the volleyball club of Nekoma, his gaze wandered through the bright space of high ceilings and polished wood, with such wonder that any observer would have sworn it was his first time in a gym, until his attention was attracted by the voices of those who would be his companions. Specifically, his eyes glued to the boy who was facing the group of first-year candidates.

He smiled without realizing it before that rookie with light hair that, despite his short stature, kept a firm and resolute pose in front of the group. His smile widened when his brown eyes fell on him.

"Hello! Don't be shy, big boy, come in and introduce yourself."

"Hi! I'm Haiba Lev. You are a first year too, right? In which class are you?"

Everything around them seemed to freeze. The second and third year students fell into an expectant silence. That should have warned him.

"E-excuse me," the short guy's smile flickered like a candle, "you think I'm a first year?"

Lev faltered for the split of a second before opening his mouth… and Pandora's box.

"Sorry, you are so short that…"

A few weeks would pass before the first kick -a blow to the shin that made him limp for a day and a half- and the occasional smacks -less frequent because Lev's neck was usually out of reach-, but that day the half-Russian had the dubious honor of breaking the record in getting on Yaku Morisuke's nerves. With an impressive mark of seven seconds and eight hundredths, he pulverized the twenty-four with three of Kuroo Tetsurou.

Not bad for a first day.

With such a history, it was difficult to explain why he was there, on the campus of the Todai, like an oversized lost pup. Any other person would have said goodbye to his senpai at graduation, he would have wished him the best, and they would have only seen each other in the alumni meetings and maybe in a game.

But Lev was not just anyone.

There were many things that characterized him, such as his noisy, energetic and ungovernable nature, or the fact that he did not have a single filter between his brain and his mouth. However, there was something much more elementary and defining of the half-Russian: his stubbornness. Once he was set on something, stopping him was like trying to stop a truck without brakes; it required enormous skill, cold blood and certain suicidal tendencies.

An internal earthquake seemed to shake Lev from head to toe and his eyes lit up like jade suns when a small figure stopped a few steps above him, looking at the boy in confusion.

"Yaku-san!" a wide smile spread through his face.

The chesnut-haired opened his mouth to reply, but a third person spoke before he could utter a word.

"Huh, what do we have here? A lost kid?"

Lev hadn't noticed him before, but right next to the libero stood another of his former senpai, with his ever-present smirk and laid-back attitude.

"Kuroo-san." he pouted upon registering the taunt, "you are only two years older than me."

"Age is a mental issue, brat."

"In that case the two of you should go back to kindergarten" Yaku intervened. "What are you doing here, Lev?" he asked before any of them could complain.

"I wanted to see you" he answered, smiling again.

His senpai waited for him to add further explanation, because nobody in the world would simply say something like that. On the other hand…

_It's Lev._

"So…" the libero hesitated, "do you need something from me?"

"Not really" he shrugged. "I just wanted to hang out with you."

"Awww, how cute" the raven-haired sung at the expenses of the blush that dyed his friend's cheeks. "Someone suffers from NMS syndrome."

"What's that? Is it bad?"

"Lev, no!" Yaku moaned, facepalming.

"It's the 'Notice me, Senpai' syndrome" Kuroo answered, revelling in his despair. "Severe cases might cause serious disorders to both the patient and people around him. Fortunately, judging by the vasodilation of his facial skin capillaries, our little friend here is head over h- Ouch!"

"Shut up, you Osmium!" Yaku shouted to a sore Kuroo, who balanced on one leg to rub his battered quill. Yaku could be short, but he was far from being harmless. "Lev, you should know better than to ask about this sort of things."

"I'm sorry, Yaku-san. What did you call him?"

"Haven't you heard the 'no asking' part?" Kuroo mumbled.

"I just want to know that word" he pouted. "It sounds like 'moron'."

Yaku giggled. It was as if the laughter bubbled inside him and poured without his consent, honest and melodic. The sound seemed to reverberate inside the half-Russian's chest, tingling and making him smile.

"That too, but I called him 'osmium' because is the thickest element."

"Oh."

Lev looked at him with such admiration that, paradoxically, Yaku felt himself dwarf. In the months he had been attending college, training with his new team, he had met brilliant and physically imposing people. However, it was in front of that ungainly walking skyscraper, simpler than an amoeba and as direct as the hook of a boxer, that he felt self-conscious.

"If I'm osmium then the two of you are neutron stars" Kuroo declared from a prudential distance.

"What are you talking about, Astaxanthin?" Yaku arched a brow, looking at him suspiciously.

"But Yaku-san is a libero, not the star…" Lev mused.

"Neither are you."

Lev puffed. Yaku was used to that gesture of his. The novelty was that, being two steps above the half-Russian, he could look at him face-to-face. It was refreshing. Without realizing what he was doing, he reached out and pressed a finger against his cheek. Lev released the air little by little, stupefied, although not as much as the chestnut-haired himself. Kuroo's shrill laughter shook the libero out of his paralysis. He withdrew his hand brusquely, turning tomato-red.

"Thick is what you are, Lev, you neutrino head. You've been dating for a year without even realizing it."

Yaku let out a strangled noise, as if he had swallowed his tongue, and buried his face in his hands. That night he would watch a marathon of  _1000 ways to die_  and write a list of the ten most painful and humiliating to test them in the soon-to-be corpse that was his so-called friend...

"If Yaku-san and I are dating, are Kuroo-san and Kenma-san married then?"

…Or not.

Perhaps his intervention would not be necessary. Maybe Kuroo would suffer a spontaneous combustion in the next few minutes. His face, at least, seemed two degrees away from bursting into flames, despite the cold autumnal air.

Yaku laughed until his abdomen ached and his head felt light. He had missed it, damn it. His exuberant character, absurd discussions, naive comments, sometimes hurtful, but devoid of malice. He looked at Lev, his smile radiant, as if seeing him laugh was the greatest prize he could hope for, and he understood it. His 'I wanted to see you'. The feeling that something was missing since he didn't have him scampering around every day.

"Y-you" Kuroo stammered, barely recovered from his stupor, "don't change the topic. It's obvious you like each other, don't deny it."

"I don't" Lev replied.

"Wait a moment, Lev" Yaku said, He tried not to shiver when the green eyes focused on him. "Kuroo is talking about like-like. Not as a friend or your senpai."

"Hmmm" Lev rubbed his chin, pensive.

None of the older ones remembered seeing him meditate before. The half-Russian was more likely to act on impulse, guided by sheer intuition. The fact that he was considering the matter with such intensity produced mixed feelings in Yaku. On the one hand, it didn't repel him at all to think of Lev having that kind of feelings for him. Although he would never admit it out loud. On the other hand, the idea of the two of them in  _that_  way made him dizzy. And a third part demanded an answer because  _do you like me or not, dunderhead, what do you have to think so much?_

"How do you know if you like-like someone for real?" he finally asked.

"Uh…"  _Fair question._

"That…" Kuroo scratched the back of his neck. "Well… I guess the person you like is the one that makes your day feel brighter just by seeing them, or with a mere message. Someone with whom you can talk about everything and nothing, with whom you are free to be yourself… although you are shameless, so I guess that doesn't count."

"I think you really like someone when their happiness is what matters the most to you" Yaku blinked a couple of times before realizing what he had just said.

"Since when do you have a romantic side, Yakkun?"

"Say that again and Kenma will widow" he threatened as convincingly as he could while his face turned into a light bulb.

"Then yes" Lev announced. It took a few seconds for Yaku to connect a neuron with another and understand what he was talking about. The half-Russian set a foot on the next step and leant towards the libero, who vaguely wondered how those eyes could be so green and if his face would ever not look like a beet. "Do you want to be my boyfriend, Yaku-san?"

The chesnut-haired ignored Kuroo's hysterical schoolgirl-like scream and forced himself to think coolly.

"Lev, we've known each other for a year, and it's not like we have had a great relationship."

"Is because I say you are small?" he asked, consternated.

"Partly" he replied, uncomfortable.

"But it's true, you are small."

" _Lev_ " he groaned, stretching his name until turning it into three syllables.

"I don't say it to annoy you. I think you are incredible. And strong. Your height makes it even more amazing, Yaku-san."

Yaku tilted his head and put his hands on his hips. He didn't know whether to laugh or not, because it was funny, indeed. He had never thought that Lev had a single gram of malice, and yet he had done nothing but to lose his temper every time he pointed out the obvious. He was so frustrated with his stature, he was so horrified to be judged because of it, that he shuddered at the single mention of it.

It never occurred to him that someone could give him some kind of credit, recognize the value he had to make his way in spite of it.

"Since when are you this awesome?"

"I have always been" he grinned. "'Though not as much as Yaku-san."

The libero shook his head with a dazzled smile. His past self would probably be pulling his hair. Maybe that Yaku needed a smack. Or two. To stop creating problems in his own head.

"I do" he murmured before merging his breath with Lev's.

Starting off on the wrong foot was not always synonymous with failure. Not having brakes did not necessarily mean ending up crashing. Kuroo threw a rain of fallen leaves shouting "cheers for the newlyweds!", And it was ridiculous, and sweet and better than he could have ever imagined.

-.-.-

"Good morning, Kenma-san. This is for you."

"What's this, Lev?"

"Your wedding present."

"…What?"


	3. Concepts (IwaOi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The concepts that one forms are susceptible to change. Sometimes because an unexpected facet is discovered. Sometimes because a third party comes up with a stupid comment such as: "Hey, he truly is hot."

The mental image that one has of another person does not necessarily correspond to reality. It can be distorted by feelings, from absolute abhorrence to affection or pure admiration, or get stuck in time, crystallized around a memory. In the same way that for a father his kids will always be his beloved little children, for Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru was a jumble of bright smiles and crocodile tears, of tenacity, scratched knees and alien t-shirts. A skinny and ungainly child, pure concentrated calamity wrapped under an innocent façade.

But the concepts that one forms are susceptible to change. Sometimes because an unexpected facet is discovered, such as the class bully being fond of classical ballet, or that the affable-looking nerd is into heavy metal. Sometimes because a third party comes up with a stupid comment such as:

“Hey, he truly is hot.”

Just like that.

“Excuse me?”

“Oikawa” Hanamaki clarified, gesturing towards the aforementioned, who practiced his serves a few meters away from them, as if that were the source of his incomprehension. “Not that I’m into him or anything, but I have to admit he’s a hunk. No wonder half the school is after him.”

He watched Iwaizumi, as if waiting for agreement on his part. The brunette just stared at his partner. Surely Mattsun would appear at any moment with a camera and admit that it was a joke to see the face he made. Because it _had_ to be.

“What are you talking about?” Matsukawa asked, approaching calmly. No trace of a camera.

“I think Makki is having a stroke.”

“ _Dude_ ” the guy protested. “It’s not my fault that you can’t appreciate beauty. Matsukawa, don`t you think Oikawa is really fine? Physically, I mean. We all know that his brain has been short-circuited for years.”

Instead of answering, the tallest of the three looked at their captain, studying him. Out of sheer inertia the other two joined in the contemplation. Iwaizumi thanked every god that Oikawa hadn’t noticed their conversation. At that time he was preparing for a new serve. He saw him spin the ball between his hands, skillful. He could almost feel his mind going blank as he closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing so that his pulse would not shake. The eyelids opened, revealing a gaze from another world. Launch, run-up, jump and _zas_ , all power, elegance and coordination.

“Hey, Earth to Iwaizumi” Makki pulled him out of his musing with a friendly nudge. “Cat got your tongue?”

“He’s a beast” Iwaizumi mumbled before turning on his heels and going to the locker room.

 _When did that happen?_ He mentally revised lustrums of memories in an attempt to find the moment in which the weakly boy had transformed into an indomitable beast. Because the image of that powerful and potentially lethal musculature - at least it would end up killing him if his heart kept racing like that- did not fit at all with the Oikawa Tooru-file of his brain archive. In that tab could have fitted things like "soft hair", "impeccable nails" and, being magnanimous, "pretty smile" - because yes, sometimes, very occasionally, Oikawa could smile sincerely, without traces of arrogance or veiled taunts, and even Iwaizumi had to admit that it was nice.

But never, ever “hot”.

Oikawa, _his_ Oikawa, the one he knew and… loved?, well, whatever; _that one_ had the sensuality of an escargot to him.

Or so he thought.

Because the fact was that he was in the dark in the locker room with his forehead resting on the cold metal of a locker while trying not to think _that way_ about his best friend. "Trying" being the keyword.

_I'm going to kill Makki, I swear to God that-_

"Iwa-chan?" cold sweat ran down his back. "Iwa-chan ..." Oikawa carefully opened the door. "What are you doing with the lights off? Do you have a headache?”

“Yes, ah ...” he hesitated. He reached for his jacket and sports bag, ready to take advantage of that not-all-that-false excuse; it felt as if the characters from _Inside Out_ had started a war into his brain, using memories about Oikawa as artillery. Why did his neurons absorb his smiles, his looks, and the tone of his laughter so easily, but he was incapable of ordering the noble gases according to their atomic weight? Was the fourth krypton or xenon? "I'm leaving before it gets worse.”

“I’ll accompany you. I'm going to tell Mattsun to lock and...”

“No!” Oikawa jumped a little, startled. Iwaizumi tried to correct himself. "I mean, it's not necessary." He rubbed his eyes, frustrated with himself. "Is not like I'm dying.”

“Glad to hear. Because I don’t think I could find another best friend, ace and vice-captain all in one." Oikawa smiled at him.

“And babysitter, don’t forget babysitter” he added.

Oikawa pouted, sulking.

“I’ll let it slide because you are feeling bad.”

“And because I could beat you” he huffed a laugh, walking past him to get out of the room.

“Cocky” the boy murmured, but Iwaizumi detected a hint of genuine worry in his eyes that the childish banter couldn’t opaque, and he found out he could feel warm, vulnerable and safe at the same time. “Come on, I’ll grab my stuff and walk you home.”

“There is no need to-“

“I know” he cut. His stare left no room for objections. “I do know there is no need but I _want to_ take care of you. Just in case” his expression became lighter and Iwaizumi knew he would say some idiocy. “At least until human cloning has been perfected and can replace you.”

“Idiot” Oikawa dismissed the insult with a wave of his hand and hurried to gather his belongings. “I highly doubt he would put up with you, no matter how much of a clone he were. I don’t even know why _I_ do…”

“Because deep down you love me” he turned to stick out his tongue to him.

Iwaizumi knew he had to talk. Saying something like "yes, as in the ninth circle of hell, which is where you came from" or "maybe Marianas Trench-deep" would have been appropriate. Remaining silent looking at the ground was the same as confessing his guilt. Even Oikawa, who was denser than lead off the court, was able to interpret that silence. One of the two had to answer or run away, and Iwaizumi was positive he was not able to do so. From discovering his feelings to have them destroyed in less than ten minutes. At least he would enter the Guinness Book of Records for sure.

"Iwa-chan" he looked up out of inertia, and was surprised to see the other hesitant, unsure, as if Iwaizumi were going to break into pieces if he spoke too loud or looked at him too intently. "Do you love me?"

Was it too late to say "no even for free"? Yes, it probably was. The point in which he could feign dementia and leave with his dignity more or less intact had already past.

"Maybe" he found himself saying, his voice husky. "Maybe I caught whatever Makki has, because apparently he thinks you look good, and now I think he's right,” _here goes nothing,_ “and that I like you.”

“Oh.”

_Oh._

_Oh!?_

He confessed and all he got in return was an onomatopoeia?

“Is that all?” he asked, more surprised than indignant.

“Oh my God?” he laughed. The bastard. He wondered if a paracetamol overdose would kill him fast enough or if he should jump out of a bridge. “I’m sorry” Oikawa kept talking between streaks of nervous laughter. “I just didn’t see it coming. You to like me.”

“I’m the most surprised.”

“I’m sure.”

“So what now?” Iwaizumi asked after a short silence.

“Well, I guess is a good moment to say that I like you too. And now I’ll walk you home, tuck you and take care of you like the good boyfriend I am, okay?”

Iwaizumi allowed him to drag him by the hand without saying a word. First of all, because blurting out that phrase had taken Oikawa every ounce of courage he possessed, judging by the deep red shade of his face. And secondly, because he was very busy doing a major update in his mental files.

**_ Oikawa Tooru _ **

_Strong._

_Elegant._

_Volleyball idiot._

_Smart. But he's still an idiot._

_Perfectionist._

_Childish._

_Handsome. Terribly._

_Warm._

**_My boyfriend._ **

-.-.-

Helium, neon, argon, krypton, xenon and radon.


	4. Person of interest (KuroKen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He keeps an eye on everything and everyone… but only for a while. Once he had picked on the details he needed, he lost interest. He got bored. And Kenma couldn’t get himself to focus on things that bored him. There are exceptions though. He can’t explain them, but they are there. He knows exactly what will happen for the next few minutes. He could close his eyes and picture it with utmost detail.
> 
> And yet he can’t help the expectation rushing through his veins.

To say that keeping Kenma’s attention was difficult was an understatement. He spends his life analyzing his surroundings from behind a curtain of hair: his teachers, classmates, the teams across the net, the bosses in his videogames… he even knew which of the cats in the neighborhood liked to be petted and which ones preferred to be left alone, or which train passengers he should avoid for they might try to engage him in small talk.

Yes, he keeps an eye on everything and everyone… but only for a while. Once he had picked up the details he needed, he lost interest. He got bored. And Kenma couldn’t get himself to focus on things that bored him.

It isn’t that much of a problem when it comes to his studies, since he is able to at least grasp the fundamental of each subject, but it’s troublesome when it comes to people. Faking interest in order to maintain a friendship is just not his thing. He doesn’t blame others for giving up. Who wants to be around someone that hardly ever gets excited about anything? That isn’t up to listen to them for hours when they needed to vent?

Kenma straightens a tad at the sound of muffled footsteps.

There are exceptions though. He can’t explain them, but they are there. He knows exactly what will happen for the next few minutes. The way the newcomer would quietly enter his room, not wanting to upset Kenma, accompanied by the sweet scent of his favourite dessert, and how the mattress would sink under his weight. The warmth of the body, the ring of the singsong greeting. He could close his eyes and picture it with utmost detail.

And yet he can’t help the expectation rushing through his veins.

The door creaks open. The steps stop beside him. The bed sinks.

“New game?” Kenma hums, never detaching his eyes from the screen in which his character is currently opening a chest. “Did you do your homework?” He nods. “Good.” He feels a gentle pat on the back, almost a caress. “I brought apple pie for later. Tell me when you’re hungry.”

“Thanks,” he mutters.

He feels the weight lifting from the bed, and after a few seconds he hears the whisper of pages being turned. Kenma takes the chance to spare a glance at his best friend.

Kuroo is sitting on the floor, his back leaning against the bed, reading a notebook filled with diagrams and thorough explanations that Kenma recognizes as volleyball plays. His lips twitch in amusement. Of course. Kuroo rarely sat around doing nothing, he would be either studying or preparing for an upcoming match. The only times he has seen him put everything aside and relax were when Kenma was feeling down. Kuroo is committed to his career and his team, but for some unfathomable reason somewhere along the way Kenma ended up coming first. It makes him feel bad sometimes. It makes him steal glances at him while he is playing as if a part of him still couldn’t believe Kuroo is there.

Kuroo catches him staring and his lips part in a smirk. Kenma looks back at the TV screen, but it’s too late.

“Do you need my help with that?” Kuroo asks, climbing into the bed and taking a seat behind him. Kenma can hear the smug grin plastered in his face.

“As if.”

“Hey, I could surprise you.”

“You barely know how to play Mario Kart,” Kenma frowns, focused on slashing an armored skeleton. “I’m never getting into a car if you’re driving.”

“Aw,” Kuroo lets out an affected sigh, “you hurt my feelings, Ken-chan.”

“Don’t call me-” he gasps when a hand sneaks under his shirt.

“Yes?”

Shivers run down his spine, the voice too close to his ear. A pair of muscular arms encircle him, hands gently rubbing his skin. Kenma squirms in the embrace, but both of them know he doesn’t really want Kuroo to go away. Kenma feels a chaste kiss being pressed against his nape, sending his heartbeat in disarray. He feels Kuroo lean back, away from him, to give him space, as he usually does. He pinches him, taunts him, but never going further, never asking for anything Kenma can’t give.

And for once Kenma wishes he could.

Because Kuroo is always there, ready to do anything for him.

His hands tremble, dropping the controller to the floor.

“Kenma?” Kuroo moves towards his side, trying to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Kenma finds himself grabbing the front of his friend’s shirt and pulling him into a kiss. The touch is familiar. He knows all too well the slightly dry lips and calloused hands, the lingering taste of energy drink and the smell of soap and deodorant. And yet he can’t get enough of it, his blood boiling as it did the first time.

“Kenma…” Kuroo groans. “You are overthinking again, aren’t you?” he somehow manages to ask.

“I just…”

“I love you, silly,” he plants a kiss on his nose.

“But-” he turns his face to avoid the feathery kisses that try to hush him. “You do so much for me and I…” he hangs his head low.

“Hey,” Kuroo cups his chin with one of his big hands, “your character just died and you’re here kissing me. Believe it or not, I’m smart enough to know how much that means coming from you. Right?”

“Hmpf…”

“Hey, don’t ‘hmpf’ me. What’s the matter?”

“I…” he trails off. “You know I usually get bored of things,” he stares intently at him, and waits until Kuroo nods to continue. “I can tell when it happens. But you… It’s different. I know all about you but… I don’t want this to end,” he absentmindedly clutches his chest, “even though I don’t know why.”

Kuroo blinks once. Twice.

“Because I’m your apple pie supplier, of course,” he says in all seriousness.

And Kenma can’t help but laugh.

Yes, he might have him all figured out… but that doesn’t make him any less interesting.

-.-.-

“So… if one day you couldn’t buy apple pie…?” Kenma ponders.

“Don’t worry, I’ll learn to bake.”

“Oh. Well then.”


End file.
